


Smoke and Mirrors

by eightofcoins



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Smut, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightofcoins/pseuds/eightofcoins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yosuke, Kanji, and Teddie each spend a long while with fem!Dojima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
> **_MAMAJIMA_ **   
> _Genderbend! Dojima has...different tastes. Ones that had been easily suppressed during her marriage but are now back in full force._
> 
> _What is it you ask that has her so hot and bothered? Why her nephew's friends Yosuke, Kanji and Teddie (!)._
> 
> _I request a foursome or one-on-one occurrences or heck even humourous crack involving a slip of the tongue._
> 
> _Souji's reaction and Nanako asking if she now has three new daddies is optional._
> 
> <http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/543.html?thread=581663#t581663>

Yosuke’s first time was nothing like he expected.  
  
He certainly wasn’t expecting that Ryoko Dojima -- respected detective, his best friend’s aunt, a widowed mother with a young daughter -- would, after a little polite chit-chat, suddenly push him down against the couch in her living room and shove her tongue down his throat.  
  
She tasted hot and bitter and fierce, all smoke and desire.  
  
Yosuke managed to break away for some air. “D-Dojima-san! What are you doing?!”  
  
“I’m trying to seduce you,” she replied matter-of-factly and slid a warm hand up under his shirt.  
  
He shivered a little when she began to tease one of his nipples. “Dojima-san! What if Nanako--?”  
  
“She’s sleeping over at a friend’s house.”  
  
“How about Souji?  
  
“He’s working and won’t be back until late.”  
  
Just his luck. “Wh-Why me?”  
  
“You just seem like the type who’s into older women.”  
  
Was it that obvious? Sure, he had always kind of had a thing for older girls, like Saki-senpai and that hot girl with glasses from Gekkoukan, but Dojima-san was definitely a _lot_ older than his usual fantasies.  
  
Not to say that she was ugly or anything, because Dojima-san was a prime specimen of cougar: Long, smooth legs, skinny waist, smallish boobs that weren’t the least bit saggy. If it weren’t for the dark circles under her eyes and the salt-and-pepper of her pixie-cut hair, Yosuke would never have guessed that Dojima-san was on the wrong side of 40.  
  
Besides, Yosuke was the sort of guy who didn’t mind a little gray hair. It looked really good with Dojima-san’s eyes: Gray, just like Souji’s, smoky gray and piercing. She kept those eyes steady on his as she unceremoniously stripped them both bare, though she left on her jaunty red silk scarf tied around her neck.  
  
To his surprise, the carpet didn’t match the drapes. And there was a lot of carpet: A wide triangle of lush, dark hair laid between her legs.  
  
That also was unexpected. After an initial moment of boyish horror, Yosuke realized that it actually wasn’t disgusting or anything, just really surprising. He didn’t remember the last time he had seen hair like that in any of the porn he watched; he honestly had forgotten that girls could have that much hair down there, a small fact he hadn’t considered since sex ed class and those unbelievably unarousing pictures of genitalia.  
  
But then again, Dojima-san wasn’t a girl, she was a woman, mature and experienced and totally in control. Even though she had laid back on the couch and guided him on top of her, there was no question of who was the lead partner. She almost seemed proud of him when she guided his hardness into her and he began to thrust with increasing confidence.  
  
Nothing was like what he expected.  
  
Yosuke had always been afraid to have sex for the first time, because he had heard all those horror stories about pathetic virgins who blew their load as soon as they stuck it in. Knowing his luck, he was sure that whichever girl had taken pity on him would just laugh and laugh and laugh.  
  
He thought something was going to burst as soon as he felt Dojima-san all around him, hotter and tighter than he could have imagined any girl or woman would be, and so much better than his own hand. Yosuke tried very hard not to think about how Nanako-chan had passed through that very same tightness six years ago.  
  
Just as he was about to blow or laugh or both, Dojima-san ran her hand through his hair and brought his attention back to her. And god, when he truly realized where he was and what he was doing and who was with him, Yosuke wished that that afternoon would never end.  
  
Dojima-san was all heat and passion and desire beneath him, and he wished he could forever feel her burning skin and soft fur against his. She set the pace: She dug her nails into his bottom when she wanted him to go faster, spurring him with pain to find pleasure; she pulled him close to smother him with kisses to slow him down, and there was that familiar smoky taste again.  
  
Again and again she came, and to Yosuke, her cries of ecstasy had been the best part, even better than when she had finally let him come inside her. Of course, that had felt unbelievably amazing, but he honestly had felt even better seeing Dojima-san buck and moan beneath him, knowing that he had been able to truly please another person.  
  
Cuddling together afterwards wasn’t bad, either.  
  
“Not bad, kid,” purred Dojima-san and she reached for something in her jacket pocket.  
  
“Uh, th-thanks?”  
  
“Here,” she said, offering him a cigarette that stuck out invitingly from the pack.  
  
Yosuke tried to wave it off. “Um, I don’t smoke...”  
  
In one fluid motion, Dojima-san pulled out two cigarettes with her lips and lit them; she then took one and gently pushed it into Yosuke’s mouth.  
  
He nervously took a short drag and coughed. She laughed.  
  
There was a first time for everything, thought Yosuke, and he sucked on the cigarette again.  
  
“You know, this isn’t so bad,” he exhaled. “It tastes kind of like you.”  
  
Dojima-san chuckled and started to slowly caress his chest, then his belly, and then much lower.  
  
The second time was easier.  
  
\---  
  
“I told those other cops already, I didn’t have nothing to do with bullying that kid! I made him a new doll, was all.”  
  
Dojima squinted at him and said, “I believe you.”  
  
“Then the hell did ya drag me down here for?” grumbled Kanji, barely able to contain his frustration.  
  
Dojima was a nice lady and all, kinda stern but Souji-senpai seemed to get along with her and she totally softened up whenever Nanako-chan was around. Hell, who wouldn’t around that little cutie?  
  
Still, Dojima was a cop, and cops loved to stir up shit, so Kanji couldn’t help but be frustrated as he sat in that ugly interrogation room.  
  
Dojima didn’t say anything, simply running her eyes over Kanji, as if sizing him up for a fight.  
  
When he couldn’t take the silence anymore, he said, “Well, if there ain’t nothing more to say, am I free to go?”  
  
“I know your type, Tatsumi,” replied Dojima, still leaning casually against the far wall with her arms crossed. “A wannabe tough guy on the outside, to hide the fact that you’re really a good kid underneath.”  
  
He shot out of his chair. “Sh-Shut up! You don’t know nothing about me!”  
  
She walked over and got up in his face, until they were almost eye to eye. Dojima was tall for a lady, almost Souji-senpai’s height in her modest black pumps.  
  
“I know you’re worried about being a man, what it means to be a man.” Her frown softened. “Why don’t I show you what it’s like, just this once?”  
  
“Wh-What?!”  
  
If Yosuke-senpai were around, he probably would’ve made a dirty joke behind her back, but there was no way that Dojima meant _that_... But Kanji wasn’t quite so sure after she reached behind his head and pulled him in for a kiss, leaving him speechless and breathless.  
  
“The hell was that for?!”  
  
He tried to back away from her, but she grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and used some crazy _judo_ throw on him. The next thing he knew, he was lying face up on the creepy bed in the room with Dojima straddled on top of him. Kanji tried to push her off, but she held down his arms with her strong hands and knew just how to use her weight to press down on him. He wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
“Listen, Tatsumi. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, so if you want out, just say so. _But,_ before you scream your head off, listen to me.”  
  
Kanji knew he should just try to kick her off and run for the door, but he couldn’t quite muster up the courage to hurt her, crazy as she was.  
  
“You’re a good kid, and you’ll be a good man. I know, because you remind me a little of my husband when we first met. He wasn’t a punk like you, but he was rough around the edges. Still, he was a good man, a good husband, a good father, and I loved him.”  
  
Kanji considered what she said. Would he grow up to be a good man, a good husband, a good father? Could he? God knew that he wanted to be, but nothing was that simple.  
  
“S-So? What’s that gotta do with me?”  
  
Dojima smiled at him, like she knew the punchline of some joke he didn’t get. “I’ll level with you, Tatsumi. My husband’s dead, I’m desperate for some action, and you’re the closest thing I can get to Chikato. I know that’s not very romantic, but there it is.” She loosened her grip on him. “Now, what’s it going to be?”  
  
Kanji laid there for a long few minutes, blushing and trying to avoid looking into Dojima’s eyes. This was wrong, wrong on so many levels, but his curiosity wouldn’t let him say “no.”  
  
When he didn’t try to escape, Dojima took that as a sign to go ahead. She eased up on him and began to unbutton her blouse (one button had been clumsily stitched on), and smiled as Kanji blushed even redder when she unhooked her plain black bra and tossed it aside. Having clapped his hands over his eyes, Kanji watched through the cracks of his fingers as she stood up and shimmied out of her pencil skirt (with a kick pleat that needed mending) and plain black panties.  
  
“Come on, Tatsumi, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” she said, roughly working his clothes off while she wore only the red silk scarf she always had tied around her neck.  
  
Honestly, he couldn’t imagine Dojima without that scarf, because he’d never seen her without it. Granted, Dojima always wore the same outfit -- gray blouse, black skirt, black jacket that she never seemed to actually put on -- but that red scarf seemed to be special.  
  
Now that the scarf was in his face as she held his head against her neck and climbed on top of him, Kanji could see how worn and threadbare it was. It seemed like there had been a fancy design printed on it, but it had faded down to almost nothing but a memory.  
  
Kanji would later ask Souji-senpai about it, saying that he just noticed that Dojima might like one of the scarves in the shop that Ma kept hassling him to sell. Souji-senpai just said that the scarf had been a gift from her husband, and Dojima wouldn’t ever replace it; she hardly ever took it off, even in the hottest days of summer.  
  
As she lowered herself onto him, Kanji gasped and deeply breathed in the scent at her neck. She smelled of sweat and cologne and smoke, musky and spicy and acrid, and it seemed just right.  
  
The little bed creaked and shuddered while Dojima had her way with Kanji. He held on for dear life, hoping that he’d still be in one piece after she was done with him, hoping that no one was watching them behind the one-way mirror. It wasn’t because he was afraid some jerk would see _him_ ; Kanji was more worried about how exposed Dojima was, with the image of her strong, trim body dancing across the glass.  
  
And just as clearly, Kanji could see himself mirrored in Dojima’s eyes, glassy and distant. It wasn’t like she was bored or something, because she had a kind of goofy grin on her face, but Kanji knew that he wasn’t the one she really wanted. Somewhere inside, she was making love to someone else, someone she loved, someone she lost, even as she rode Kanji harder and harder and harder.  
  
And if he was honest with himself, Kanji wasn’t really thinking about Dojima either.  
  
Would Naoto be like her in a few years? A respected veteran detective on the force? Powerful and commanding and beautiful? A woman who always got her man?  
  
Would Naoto feel as soft in his hands, even when she was so rough to him on top? Would Naoto let him see her with her guard down, as she came over and over again above him?  
  
Would Naoto lay exhausted in his arms afterwards, stroke his cheek, and softly say, “Thank you, Kanji, for humoring me like this. You’re a good man.”?  
  
Maybe, maybe not.  
  
But if Naoto did, Kanji would hold her tight and kiss her gently, just as he did with Ryoko that afternoon.  
  
\---  
  
“It’s cold tonight, Teddie, why don’t you come in for some coffee before you go home?”  
  
Teddie was happy that Dojima-san invited him inside after they walked back from the hospital together. Sensei had told him about how Dojima-san made wonderful coffee, and that that was how he and Nanako-chan and Dojima-san had become a family, by sharing coffee together.  
  
Dojima-san had chuckled softly when he asked for lots of milk and six sugars in his coffee, but she made it just the way he asked. It was as delicious as Sensei had said.  
  
After a long, warming sip, Teddie pointed at the stairs. “Does Sensei want some coffee, too?”  
  
“Souji’s out tonight, Kujikawa invited him over to her grandmother’s for dinner.”  
  
“Oh, right! I’m so jealous, Sensei gets to have dinner with Rise-chan! Oh, but I’m lucky, too!” Teddie practically sparkled. “I get to have coffee with Dojima-san, just the two of us!”  
  
“Haha, is it that good?” She smiled wistfully. “Chikato -- my husband -- always said it was the best coffee he ever had, but then again, he said that my cooking was the best he ever had, even if it gave him terrible heartburn...”  
  
“I’m sure Dojima-san’s cooking is great, too!”  
  
“Haha, there’s a reason why Souji does all the cooking around here. And anyways, Chikato did most of the cooking and housework when...” she paused and smiled wryly. “Some mother I am, eh? Some woman. Can’t cook, can’t clean, can’t even help my own daughter...” She sighed. “Nanako-chan always was a Daddy’s girl, and I can’t really blame her.”  
  
Nanako-chan... Thankfully, she was doing much better, but she was still in the hospital even though the Investigation Team had solved the case and caught Adachi-baby. Teddie would have done anything to help Nanako-chan get well again, but he just didn’t know what to do. The doctors at the hospital seemed so smart, and if they couldn’t do anything more, then what could a silly bear hope to do?  
  
Sensei had told him that Teddie had saved Nanako-chan, which made him feel better. Maybe if Sensei told Dojima-san that she had saved Nanako-chan, maybe Dojima-san would feel better, too.  
  
Well, since Sensei wasn’t around, Teddie would do it. “You saved Nanako-chan!”  
  
“Wh-What?! What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Dojima-san didn’t seem like what he had said. “I... I’m sorry, Dojima-san, I just wanted to make you feel better. Sensei told me that once, and it made me feel a lot better.”  
  
“Souji told you that, huh?” She stared into her coffee. “You and your friends really did save her, and I... I...”  
  
Teddie was about to tell her that her love of Nanako-chan had saved her daughter, but Dojima-san suddenly got to her feet, rattling the coffee mugs on the table.  
  
“Teddie, you said you wanted to make me feel better?”  
  
“Of course! Anything you want!”  
  
“Then follow me,” she said, dragging him by the arm to her bedroom.  
  
Teddie was happy to help with whatever she wanted, and it really seemed like Dojima-san felt better when she kissed him and touched him and rubbed him and held him and shuddered on top of him. He told her that she was beautiful and kind and wonderful, which was true; afterwards, she cried a little when he told her he loved her, but she said they were happy tears, and he believed her.  
  
Dojima-san slept very fitfully, kicking out every few minutes, tossing and turning and softly mumbling endless apologies to Nanako and Chikato. Though it hurt to be punched and kicked, Teddie scooted up so that his bare back was against her warm tummy, and he carefully wrapped her arms around him.  
  
Yosuke had told him that people in the real world liked to cuddle with teddie bears because it made them feel safe, and he was right; Dojima-san settled down and hugged Teddie even tighter as night gave way to dawn.  
  
The next morning, though, she looked just as tired as she was before going to sleep. When Teddie brought it up, she tried to laugh it off, saying it was because there was too much blood in her caffeine stream when she woke up, whatever that meant.  
  
They sat together in silence over some morning coffee. Dojima-san had even remembered just how Teddie liked his, so there hadn’t been any conversation while she busied herself with the pot.  
  
As tasty as the coffee was, Teddie let it sit on the table as he tried to think of some way to cheer up Dojima-san, who had read the same page of the paper a dozen times before giving up and throwing it away. Finally, after she finished her third mug and rose to escort him out of the house, Teddie offered her the only thing he could give.  
  
“Is it okay if I stay for a while, Dojima-san? To keep you company?”  
  
She gave him a little forced smile, walked him out the door, and said, “No, it’s alright, Teddie... I’ll be fine all by myself.”  
  
Teddie couldn’t help but wince a little when he heard quiet sobs from behind the closed door.  
  
 _Fin_


End file.
